


Ważki

by minutiae



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: (not sexual), Betrayal, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Child Abuse, Character Death, Child Abandonment, Child Death, Corpses, Emotional Manipulation, Euthanasia, Gaslighting, Gen, Grooming, Human Experimentation, I Shook A Witcher And Intergenerational Trauma Fell Out (The Witcher), Infant Death, Massacre, Murder, Mutagens (The Witcher), Non-Consensual Body Modification, Not Beta Read, Poisoning, Stygga Castle (The Witcher), The Attack on the Witcher Tournament, Trans Aiden (The Witcher), Unethical Experimentation, You see just a glimpse of Eskel and Geralt because I could, You would probably be surprised how much of this is canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29623578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minutiae/pseuds/minutiae
Summary: Ważka was 15 years old when she ended the reign of her uncle, the Usurper Ponderyk.He murdered Ważka's father, the King of Gemmera. Ważka's mother was imprisoned. She gave birth to Ważka, a child of surprise promised to a Witcher from Stygga Castle. Ważka's mother believed that Destiny would ensure her daughter would end up in the hands of the Witcher she was promised to.And she did. There were whispers that the Cat school mages were performing the mutations obscenely young, burning emotions out of the children. Ważka became Dragonfly, the Witcher.She was Heir to Gemmera, and the princess of Stygga Castle.Destiny handed Treyse a great deal of power to change his position in the world, and lift up the School of the Cat. They were scorned, judged, and found wanting by the continent at large. Now all he has to do is make sure Dragonfly, hisWażkais as important as her name implies.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: The Faded Texts, The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #016





	Ważki

**Author's Note:**

> CW in more detail in the end notes.
> 
> We'll just dedicate this one right to the Cake Shop, for always delighting in the new bits of Lore that we find to flesh out mostly-unknown characters. Some of these characters so little is known about them that we basically have built OCs guessing at their history, motivations, background. It's beautiful! 
> 
> Special thank you to Thirstyforred for digging up the original polish tprg that told us about this badass Cat Witcher. I hope I did her justice.

The lack of smoke from any of the chimneys tipped them off. Treyse halted the retinue with a single fist held high. They pulled the horses to a stop, and listened carefully. There were no signs of life coming from the castle. No noise to indicate life at all- the keep stood quiet and intact, the scent of death faint in the wind.   
  
Two of the elder mages stepped forward, speaking low and fast before the elder spun out a bright portal, crackling wide and firm. She held one imperious hand out at a young, fresh faced mage new to the party as well as one of the older witchers. Reins were handed off before they passed through the portal, fast and quiet. Treyse stood, alert and on edge, sword in hand. His horse was placid and calm, but he used the gelding’s body to press the large gelding beside him farther back within the woods. The scouting party would report back, and for now they just needed to wait.  
  
Time passed slowly, the horses shifting and snorting, unhappy at so close to home but stationary. The sun had barely moved before a new, wobbly portal gave a shifting, slick snap into existence and the young mage stumbled back through. He crashed himself into the bushes, clearly upset and traumatized.   
  
Treyse stood, waiting and impatient for the young mage to right himself, still green and shaking before reporting what was found. The keep was full of bodies. The mages were struck down, two of the laboratories were destroyed. The keep was empty of witchers, and only a handful of the scullery staff cowered in the kitchen when the eldest mage dismissed him to report back to Treyse.   
  
He turned to the girl beside him. She had an angular, angry face, made more severe with her hair pulled back into a long, heavy braid. Her short bangs and bright blue eyes did nothing to lessen the sharp edges. With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Treyse turned to her, all obsequious charm, running a hand through his loose, curly hair, “Princess, you stay here. We’ll clear out the garbage left by the insurrectionists. You needn’t help clearing.”  
  
“I am _not_ a child anymore, Treyse. You may have claimed me as your child, but you don't own me. You are not _actually_ my father. Look where we come from and you think you can protect me from the vileness of humanity?”  
  
The smile faltered on Treyse’s face, his eyes going momentarily sharp and hard. “As talented as you are in combat, Ważka, you cannot kick every problem in the teeth.”   
  
She thought back to last week, a vicious smile twisting her face. Her uncle had been so obnoxious, his high nasally voice, whining and arguing for his continued politics. She’d been so utterly fed up, she had swung around, the long skirts swept out of the way for one booted heel to crash into his face, breaking his teeth and the spell that had washed over those around him.   
  
The magic had fizzled, ineffective against the witchers and the mages in her retinue. The prickle of compulsion had rankled them all, pressing against them, the claws of magic slipping and scraping at the edges of their own control of chaos. Tearing her uncle apart and dismantling his seat of power had brought her great glee.   
  
Dragonfly growled, about to snap that she very well _could_ kick nearly anyone in the face she pleased, but Treyse held up a placating hand.   
  
His face was back in that calm, collected mask, with the smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No, of course, Ważka. You are the princess of Stygga castle. This is your birthright- inked right into your skin. You are witcher and royalty both- like none before you, and none ever will be again. Destiny has given you the power to rule, to subjugate. I protect you until you’re flowered, my little dragonfly. Look at you grown now, a witcher in skill and power. And two days ago, you were the most beautiful woman in the room.” Treyse runs a hand along her arm, the touch reminding her of walking into the ballroom on his arm.   
  
Her uncle had insisted on an introductory court, a resplendent affair meant to display his wealth and power, the successes of his kingdom. No one in that room would dare refer to him as a Usurper. Treyse had kept a hand at the small of her back, his fingers pressed into her bare skin, reminding her of his goal. She was instructed to use all of the refined manners she had been taught. Tonight she was a princess, not a witcher.   
  
She posed and leaned over him, displaying her bare back in a way that raised her hackles. She was unarmed save for the weapon that was her body, and she displayed the tattoo in the center of her back, the edges frayed with the stretch and pull of growth. She’d seen a drawing of the Gemmarian coat of arms. The ugly beast within the center, centered on a map to a shrine of an extinct cult, destroyed by the very uncle who stood in the center of the dais, watching her with hungry eyes.   
  
Treyse’s hands never left her body, either curled around the curve of her hip, or fingers pressed against the small of her back, turning and displaying her carefully to the nobility in the room. They’d drawn her long hair up, and the silk dress she wore was the deep red of the coat of arms, deliberately chosen to draw the eye. Treyse designed it, the scandalously bare back of the dress required the assistance of the mages to spell it carefully to stay in place. The dress accentuated every slight curve of her body, making the statement loud and clear that she was a direct threat and better claim to the throne than her uncle.   
  
Treyse had showed her the power she held within her body without resorting to violence, but the sticky, lingering looks of the nobility made her feel unclean, even with the witchers surrounding her. The strength of her family surrounding her bolstered her confidence. They’d brought a fairly large company, befitting a princess’ retinue.   
  
Dragonfly looked up again at the big castle, the crash of salt in the sea and the lingering bitter bite of winter in the air. Soon the castle would be inaccessible, the crashing sea and cold temperatures freezing the bridge until it was impassable. The storms had taken many boats, the waters surrounding the keep now unapproachable.   
  
Shrugging off Treyse’s hand, Dragonfly passed him with her shoulders back and head held high. Winter was fast approaching, and if the report was correct she now needed to run double time to ensure that the keep was prepared for the harsh calls of winter perched above the sea. 

****   
  


Winter had set in fast, with the few remaining scrambling to repair the laboratories, fill the keep with supplies to last the winter, and haul in livestock. As they did on every excursion, the mages had brought along yet another handful of chattel to conduct their experiments on.    
  
They argued in the main hall that Treyse had rearranged to resemble the typical Southern court, A large, heavy seat styled as a throne where Dragonfly lounged, as Treyse stood before her.    
  
The fight was about the lack of support in caring for the infants brought back. Five mages were not nearly enough, especially as two were mere apprentices. They had two infants, a wee babe in arms and two women heavy with child that they’d procured on their excursion to the Usurper’s court. One of the women was his consort, and the two infants from his household.    
  
The mages were positively gleeful at fat, healthy babes to attempt mutations on. Dragonfly herself had been small and weak, underfed and clinging to life when Treyse had found her left to Destiny. But her mutations had been a success, she’d become a wild and beautiful witcher, and he’d made a point to keep her close and beloved. Dragonfly was unaware of the arguments about her upbringing- Guxart being the most vocal against needing to upkeep the tattoo inflicted upon her back.    
  
Her mother had been desperate for the infant that she knew she would lose be  _ known _ . Her name, her rank, her birthright, her destiny- carefully tattooed onto her back. The tattoo itself was small- the coat of arms only barely larger than a man’s hand. It would’ve covered her entire back as a small, malnourished infant. Treyse had made sure that the colors and edges were kept neat and as free of distortion, his axii dragging the light from her eyes, leaving her limp and pliable in his arms, laid across his lap as the mages kept her branding fresh and clear, the ink worked deep into her skin.    
  
Nearly all of Dragonfly’s shirts were made specifically for her, deep cuts out of the back so her tattoo was visible anytime she wasn’t in full armor. She wasn’t a particularly beautiful girl, and at 15 the sharp angles of womanhood were visible through the last vestiges of youth. Her nose was long and sharp, her eyes had the calculating intelligence so common to the infants that survived the mage’s mutations. Their losses were great, and they had yet to successfully mutate in the womb. They’d only rarely manage to save the mothers.    
  
None of the mothers remained when the insurrectionists sacked the keep, Treyse had announced at the start of this meeting. Dragonfly hadn’t been upset by this- her mother had long since perished. There was a momentary frown, however, that Aiden’s mother had been found, the black lines of poison traced across her cold, still face. Why    
  
They were tentative girlfriends, Aiden shy and quiet, but Dragonfly had spent hours, fingers intertwined with the only one who made her suspect that Cats were not as emotionless as Treyse insisted. She’d watched Aiden care for her mother, marveling over their matching fire red hair. She wondered if she looked as similar to her own long dead mother.    
  
The blank, slack face of the broken woman only had a spark of light when Aiden appeared, but it was clear that she’d been culled as unable to make the move. Dragonfly crumbled the frozen little flowers on the ground as Treyse stormed back and forth, shouting rage filled about the betrayals by Guxart. All of the mages and a few of the more aggressive trainers had been murdered in their beds.    
  
As winter had slowly approached, only 10 more cats had returned home. They were few, but Treyse gathered them every week to rail and howl about the betrayal after the bridge became impassable.    
  
It wasn’t until Treyse brought up searching for the defectors that Dragonfly sat forward, interested. “You will find Aiden, then? And bring her back to me.”    
  
It was one of the younger mages who spoke up. Dragonfly never bothered to know them, the younger ones cycling through as they couldn’t stand up to the rigorous demands entrenched in the workings of the Cat school.    
  
“Your grace, you no longer need such youthful dalliances. We’ll find you a beautiful princess to woo. Someone more appropriate to your station, far better than the little ginger leech who hung upon you.”   
  
Dragonfly had been on him in an instant, pouncing across the table. It was one fluid movement, the long line of her, first her hands, then her feet, firmly planted into the center of the table, scattering the dishes and spilling the wine as she landed firmly in his lap, knocking his chair over backwards, his head cracking solidly against the floor.    
  
Treyse halts her nearly immediately, a firm hand on the back of her bare neck, her long braid swaying in the terrified mages’ face. “Ważka, this is not your enemy. He means only to uplift your destiny, your given birthright. You trust me, don’t you?” Treyse smoothed a hand down her neck, before firmly tugging on her braid until she was snarling up at him, her knees still pressed heavily into the man below her. “You know I only have the best in mind for you, Ważka. Guxart tried to destroy your birthright, your claim to the throne of Stygga. He didn’t want the best for you, and he twisted the mind of your sweet little girlfriend and took her away.”   
  
“What can you do _ about it,  _ Treyse?”    
  
“What can we do about it, little Cat?”   
  
“ _ Punish them.” _ _  
_ _  
_ It moved fast after Dragonfly’s explosive reaction. The little princess had always been a favorite, coddled by Treyse and the mothers, her birthright making her valuable. Her survival of the trials so young made her powerful, and the masters had devoted much into her development.    
  


So at her rage at the betrayal, the schism in the school, by the time spring rolled around, the Cats had been entirely enraged. The mages had crafted tracking talismans, and portals deposited the remaining loyal cats across the continent.    
  
It was far too many tense weeks as they searched, until one by one the Cats broke their talismans and returned home with news of a Caravan. Guxart, it was whispered, wasn’t even in charge. Gezras, a newly mutated half elf whose hair was nearly as red as Aiden’s, apparently had survived after being dumped out the back of the keep with the rest of the culled and useless corpses. It led to a few weeks of rabid research from the mages, delighted at the survival of the little half elf who had been bright and promising.    
  
The last Cat to return had spoken at great length privately to Treyse, deep in the night much to Dragonfly’s extreme irritation. But Treyse just guided her to her room, his hand on her bare back like always, speaking softly of preparing to avenge her honor from the disrespect of those who betrayed her. He pressed her gently into the room, and after pressing a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the anger radiating from her, locked her in her bedroom.    
  
She wasn’t released for four days, taking her meals alone.    
  
When she finally was allowed to rejoin, Treyse had demanded she attend in her red silk gown, as the princess, not the witcher.    
  
One of the returning witchers had managed to procure a small circlet of silver, that sat perfectly on her forehead, the color striking against her blonde hair. Her eyes, the bright, inhuman blue still held the sharp, startling cat pupils that all the Cat witchers boasted.    
  
When he’d finally settled her at the head of the table, they outlined their plan.    
  
The faithless cats had fled far north, all the way to northern Kaedwen, seeking refuge with the Wolves. It had been known that Guxart had friends with some of the older Wolves, a kinship of sorts between the swordmasters of the two schools. There had been mocking jokes at his expense of lowering his standards to lie with wild, rutting dogs.    
  
Until now.    
  
Now, all of his decisions and suggestions had been called into question. His demands in Dragonfly’s upbringing were framed as an attempt to remove her from her rightful place. Treyse brought up over and over how Guxart had fought against Treyse’s monopoly over the young girl’s time. How unhealthy and codependent he’d claimed Dragonfly had been.    
  
Dragonfly glowed under the praise of Treyse, who stood beside her, petting a hand through her hair. His Ważka was more than an unstable child, as Guxart claimed. She was strong and clever and he didn’t need to manipulate her as Guxart was twisting the story to the Wolves.    
  
The young Cat Lexandre that returned with word of the Caravan was sent back to scout alone, an argument that lasted two full days as the mages insisted on being able to track Gezras for their notations. They won, but barely, as just the youngest apprentice had been sent along to return word of any news.    
  
There was to be a tournament, a celebration of the Cats and Wolves coming together. The little mage trembled before the rage that filled the room. Treyse nearly vibrated, his hand gripped so tight on Dragonfly’s shoulder that the bruises darkened even as she sat in the big, ornate chair, eyes blank with hate.    
  
Gezras, the young upstart, had built the Caravan into a semblance of a traveling school, and sought protection and assistance from the Wolves to train new masters to teach the youngest. Rennes had loudly declared the Cat’s shift into legitimacy and moral upstanding a step in the right direction and he’d help guide the young new leader.    
  
It was murmured nearly inaudibly that Guxart’s night time trips to Vesemir’s tent likely helped negotiations. It seemed the rumors of him allowing a wolf to mount him as he yowled like a cat in heat were not far off base. The crass and unkind jokes lingered, even as the young mage attempted to clarify that no, it was the young wolf who was rutted like a bitch. The joke fell flat, and Treyse's eyes tracked the young mage whose face turned ashen when realizing his mockery of the betrayer mocked the man before him as well. He apology went unremarked on, but his fear filled the hall.    
  
Treyse had them wound tight, and they waited, gathering potions and building bombs. Arrows were sourced and gathered, until the day after the tournament began.    
  
The mages spun out four portals, one on each side of the tournament ground, the cats slinking through first, low and quick. Dragonfly herself stepped through one of the last, head held high, hair braided tightly back, the circlet still atop her head. Treyse followed behind her, his hood up and swords out, leaning heavily into the aura of threat and danger she exuded solely with her rage.    
  
The eldest mage followed closely behind, her hair bound back tightly. She was just as ready for war, the dangerous crackle of chaos prickled across their skin she stepped forward into the centre of the field. She looked down her nose at the startled expression of the young witchers training before her. In the midst of the field stood two wolves, both tall and grey, near a small, red haired witcher.    
  
_ Gezras.  _ Beside him was Guxart the Betrayer. Dragonfly hissed, pointing with one of her long swords at a witcher across the field. Aiden’s long ginger braid made her stand out beside a group of taller boys, practicing a particular flip kick that Aiden’s slight form made simple.   
  
“Bring her to me.” Dragonfly demanded. “ _ And kill the rest.” _   
  


The declaration set everything in motion in moments, the surprise of the trainees turned to fear the moment Dragonfly demanded their deaths, flanked by Treyse and the mage.    
  
Treyse drew both swords and set upon them, carving a path through the young, and the screams resonated through the trees. They hadn’t yet figured out they were surrounded, but the teachers and coaches were stopping fights where they could.    
  
Dragonfly’s long sword was coated in blood as she chased Guxart across the field.    
  
The youth were trying to fight back against the invading Cats where they could, but weak signs and poor footwork in the youngest witchers left the older ones at a disadvantage. They did everything they could to try and protect the young, but all it did was single out which ones to take down first. With four mages tearing down the protectors, they fell quickly.    
  
The wolves had mages of their own, holding portals to shove through. Dragonfly hissed at a druid who dragged a white haired boy through, soaked in blood and screaming. Guxart disappeared through another portal. But for every one who escaped, There was no mercy held, as Treyse had instilled in them that Traitors bred and trained nothing but betrayal. Young and old fell side by side.

One of the oldest cats, bleeding and limping, dragged over a screaming, fighting Aiden. He threw her to the ground before Dragonfly, and she panted and screamed.    
  
“ _ Ważka _ ! What are you doing?!”   
_  
_ _ “You do not get to call me that!  _ You left me!”   
  
“We  _ ran _ ! I’ve tried to tell you so many times, Treyse has warped your mind.  _ Please. _ Gezras wants something different for us, there’s no reason to mutate  _ infants _ , more survive when they’re older!”    
  
“ _ They’re feeding you lies!”  _ Dragonfly screamed, attacking, and Aiden scrambled back, stumbling to her feet.    
  
They had sparred together for years, growing and training and learning side by side. They were nearly inseparable and Aiden sobbed as she blocked and parried, dancing away. Dragonfly was vicious, tall and long limbed, but Aiden’s small stature gave her an advantage with speed. They’d always been evenly matched, and even as they fought Dragonfly’s eyes skittered over the field. Bodies were scattered everywhere, and she faltered at seeing Treyse laid out, torn and bloodied.    
  
She knew the moment she stumbled that Aiden could have pressed the advantage and killed her, but instead she saw Aiden scream her name, flinging a hand out in a desperate gesture to someone behind her to stop. Dragonfly whipped around, eyes wide, and saw a young witcher, flanked by Rennes and Gezras. The young wolf had bright golden eyes and long, auburn hair and a fierce expression, and before Dragonfly could react, he cast an Aard that hit so hard it wasn’t until she sat up later, gingerly, ears ringing and nose bloodied did she realize what happened.    
  
Dragonfly stood alone in a wide field of corpses. There were mostly Wolves, but each one of the Cats she knew and loved she stopped, collecting their medallion and arranging them carefully into the repose of death. She stumbled through the bodies until she found Treyse, and knelt beside him, taking one cold hand in her own. She knelt, stunned, as only the sounds of nature surrounded them. She had to leave, before the Wolves came back to attend to their dead. Necrophages this close to their keep in such number would be dangerous. When she looked around and couldn't even count the number of bodies Dragonfly suddenly was very tired.    
  
Was there anyone  _ left _ to return?    
  
Ważka stood slowly, still unsteady. This couldn’t have been what Destiny meant for her, surely? She had stood tall, on a pedestal propped up by Treyse, and brought only destruction to her family. She was alone, now, uncertain if any of the Cats survived, and positive the Caravan would shun her. The Wolves would likely kill her on sight, and she suddenly felt very small in a very large continent, and very, very alone. She had her blades, and was given her medallion at her 15th name day. She was Dragonfly of the cats, Princess of Stygga Castle. She turned her back on the destruction behind her, and walked out of the field of corpses, headed south. If this was what Destiny had to offer, she was going to find  _ better.  _   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The Cat school mages are said to perform unethical experimentation, and mention of the losses is made. There is no detail to the grasses or experimentations done. 
> 
> Dragonfly's tattoo was done on her by her mother as a newborn. 
> 
> Treyse is manipulative and terrible- but he does not sexually abuse Dragonfly at any time. I hope this is clear within the text. 
> 
> Because of the inherent costs of failed mutagens and battlefields, corpses are mentioned. Gezras' canonical beginning is climbing out of a pile of corpses, having being left for dead. The bodies are not described in detail.


End file.
